By M. Yonts and David Allan Coe



River, you heard my first cry as a baby

And, like my Mom, you sang me lullabies

You knew my fishing pole

When I was eight years old

And, river, you never told me lies



River, I can see you from my window

Your muddy water makes me feel alone

River, you keep flowing

Like you know just where you're going

But, River, will you ever take me home



River, I'm not proud of what I've done

Somehow my fishing pole became a gun

Through these prison bars I see

That you're still running free

But, river, I've got no place to run